Broken Jars and Untied Shoes
by Mello's Favorite Reject
Summary: BB had many responsibilities, and he tended to each of them with care and precision. From the humble beginnings of being told to clean his room to the painstaking methods pertaining to his grueling murders. And, after everything he's done, he has only one regret. -AU OneShot.


**Title: **Broken Jars and Untied Shoes

**Summary: **BB had many responsibilities, and he tended to each of them with care and precision. From the humble beginnings of being told to clean his room to the painstaking methods pertaining to his grueling murders. And, after everything he's done, he has only one regret. -AU OneShot.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own DN or anything I may reference.

**Author's Note: **Oi, I'm usin' the desktop for this, and my time's limited, so bear with me. Basically, the idea here is that L/BB were brothers. I know it's cliché, but I'm tackling this with a new incentive.

…

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A shirt was folded and laid neatly in the drawer; a pair of shoes were properly laced and placed by the welcome mat; dishes were unloaded from the dishwasher and put in their respective cupboards. Floors were swept and scrubbed; tables and counters were wiped clean. Soon enough, the house was immaculate to the naked eye, and the red-eyed child responsible for this beamed with pride as he awaited validation for his efforts to better his environment.

He looked to his father, who slept in the recliner, exhausted after toiling as a rib-bolter in the mine and then coming home to chop fire wood. Not wanting to bother the hard working man, he looked for his mother, succeeding in only finding her absence.

Upon hearing a crash, a small, childish yelp, and the prodding of adult feet against the upstairs floorboards, the red-eyed child quickly and easily deduced the whereabouts of his mother… and his younger brother.

To prove his presumptions true like his inner-detective urged, he hastily bounded the stairwell and peaked around the corner, easily spotting his mother with her back to him. Craning his neck just a bit more, he could see that his mother's attention was focused on a raven-haired child with dull eyes and pouty lips, hands devoid of a glass object he'd so clearly dropped and broke.

This alone sparked jealousy within the red-eyed child, hating how his brother could not only get away with breaking things, but also get coddled afterwards, whereas himself had to work hard to get the slightest acknowledgement.

It was always: 'Lawliet's so cute and tiny.' 'Lawliet… you've made a mess; how adorable!' 'Lawliet, look at you, you're getting so big.' 'Lawliet, are you hungry?' 'Lawliet, I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind sharing his jam…'

Then again, it was also: 'Beyond, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!' 'Beyond, clean up after yourself.' 'Beyond, help your brother.' 'Beyond, can you get me the hair brush?' 'Beyond, I've gotta go, but while I'm gone, please clean up a bit.' 'Beyond, why do you do this shit?! Why can't you be more like your sweet little brother?'

There was resentment with the double standards that came with being the older brother, and Beyond's young mind warped itself to mend the ego his parents unwittingly stomped on.

Red eyes glared angrily at the younger boy, whose cheeks were tracked with tears and whose hands were tainted red from jam that was not his to touch. Beyond loathed Lawliet, but he couldn't let his mommy know that or she'd be displeased with him.

And Beyond was nothing if not a people-pleaser.

"Lawliet, that must've given you such a scare. Are you okay, sweetie?"

Lawliet refused to answer her; instead, he simply raised his red-painted hands in a curious fashion and dropped his gaze to the broken mess that glittered around his feet. "Jam," he said austerely, raising his dull eyes to meet his elder brother's red ones and reaching for him.

With a strange curiosity beckoning him, Beyond approached his brother and mother.

As soon as the mother realized her second son was on the scene, she stepped back, dramatically expressing irrational woe by pressing the back of her hand to her forehead in a show of faux-fatigue. "Dear me! Beyond, please tend this mess and clean up your little brother. I'm terribly late for work and haven't the time to deal with this. Please, just… -Do this and I'll pick up more jam on my way home. -You like Grape, right?" With that, she was grabbing and pulling on a coat as her feet made for a mad dash down the stairs, leaving the boys alone.

"…I like Strawberry," Beyond murmured bitterly, kneeling down and using his bare hands to scoop up the glass, seemingly unaware of the shards that pierced his flesh.

Lawliet watched with mild interest before nudging his foot against his brother's side to gain attention. "Beyond?"

With a soft growl, the red-eyed elder responded: "what now, Lawli?" The added nickname was unintended but not retracted. Still, as he lifted his head to greet his sibling, he was surprised to find a small red-painted finger forced into his mouth and pulled away.

"Strawberry," Lawliet said, offering his sticking hands to Beyond's awaiting mouth.

"…Lawli…" Beyond cautioned, parting his lips and allowing the sinful substance to tease his tongue and ignite a sense of desire and unfounded possessiveness within him. Once he'd orally cleaned his brother's hands, he picked up Lawliet and placed him on the nearby bed. "This used to be my room," he said calmly, looking around at the neat little bookshelf, the large oak dresser, the tidy little desk and chair, the nice polished floors, and the Chaucer-themed décor. "I was here first. Mommy and daddy loved me first…" he paused, glancing at the younger boy and noticing the oversized footwear that flopped on his feet. "And those _are _my shoes." That last part brought a small smile to his face as he reached over to tie the dirty Reebok shoes.

Lawliet's eyes widened a fraction as he watched the shoes get tied; he was clearly fascinated. "Teach me," he demanded in a way that was less bossy and more pleading, as if the need to do such a simple thing was more beneficial than the course itself.

Without a second thought, the red-eyed child agreed, untying a shoe and grabbing a lace in each hand. "Alright, it all begins with a bunny," he explained, making a loop with one string and gathering his thoughts to further the tutoring.

All in all, this might seem like a tender moment of bonding for the two boys, but the lesson was never finished.

Heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs and hands grabbed hold of Beyond, ripping him away from his brother. "Dad, I was just…-!" Beyond began, always quick to defend himself for the things he didn't do…. But always all too eager to exploit the things he _did _do.

Still, his father literally dragged him back down the stairs and shoved him onto the sofa in the living room. "You didn't finish your chores, ya little shit. And now that your mom's gone, you think you can sit around and play? No, that's not how it works. I cut that damn fire wood, and you're going to unload it. After that, _then _you can get a bath and get to bed early."

Beyond would never admit it, but when his father raised his voice like that, it was truly terrifying. Regardless, he pretended not to care, giving a simple nod and scrambling to get to his feet. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his coat, grunting in disapproval when he couldn't find his gloves.

Then he made his way outside to the large pile of chopped wood. Piece by piece, he grabbed the logs and hauled it across the yard and stacked it neatly, trying to hide the pain from the splinters and the aches that settled in his back after the first few trips.

When he was nearly finished, a glint of sunlight reflecting off the ax caught his eye. It was a large ax with a long wooden handle and a shiny metal wedge.

Harvesting all his bitter feelings over the 8 years he'd been alive, he placed his foot against a stump, gripped the handle, and like King Arthur with Excalibur, he unsheathed his weapon, feeling empowered by the adrenaline in his system.

Before he could lose his nerve, he steeled his emotions and trekked to the door; he pulled it open and stepped inside, laughing dryly when he realized that his soddy boots were making the floor so filthy… right after he'd cleaned it so recently. He walked into the living room and found his father's aging form in that same recliner, feet propped up and own arm precariously tossed over his eyes to shield him from the light as he napped.

"Daddy, I've finished moving the wood… Are you proud of me?" He chuckled darkly and approached the recliner, grinning as he dragged the heavy ax behind him. "Are you proud yet? I did it. Without complaining, I did everything. Didn't I, daddy?" Sucking a deep breath between gritted teeth, Beyond squinted his eyes and raised the ax, giving a hard chop in the general direction of the father he grew up admiring. "Are you proud of me yet, daddy?!" He raised his voice as he chopped again and again, repeated the question and chopping until his body was exhausted and his throat was hoarse.

When he stopped, he was hunched over, sobbing with the ax discarded at his side. He opened his eyes and could make out the bleared sight of Lawliet standing there, eyes wide and confused as he stood there in those oversized shoes -one tied, and one not. "Beyond?"

And the red-eyed child didn't know how to respond. What could he say? What could he do?

Just then, the back door trembled and lurched open and their mother's voice cut in: "Dammit, of all the days for me to forget my purse… Beyond, be a dear and get my purse, would you?"

Hearing that voice call for him, Beyond felt panic surge through him. He wiped his eyes on his bloody sleeve and looked at his brother with desperation. "Get mom her purse. It's on the kitchen table," he whispered hurrying to the supply closet and grabbing towels, rags, cleaner, and a mop.

Wordlessly, Lawliet obliged walking to the kitchen, grabbing the purse, hand taking it to the back door where their mother awaited; his shoes flopped on his feet with every step. When his mother thanked and praised him redundantly, he headed back to the living room, surprised to find the blood and gore gone and Beyond in the process of wiping off his hands.

"Lawli," he said quietly. "People aren't always nice. But you can't just say that there are good people and bad people. Sometimes good people do bad things, and sometimes bad people do good things. You just… need to look at things collectively, but even that isn't' enough to judge someone on."

The younger nodded, as if understanding. Then he looked down and gestured to the shoe that remained untied.

But the elder brother had other things on his mind and failed to notice. "Lawli, I'm going to go away for a while, but someday, when we're both older, I'll play with you again. It'll be fun. But… I can't stay here."

…and with those concluding words, the red-eyed child grabbed a bag and stuffed it with his favorite Wara Ningyo dolls before heading out, leaving his home and family behind.

….

Years later, famed murderer Beyond Birthday (as he was known as after the LABB murder cases) sat in his seat and ate the Strawberry jam that was given to him for good behavior.

He looked quite a mess with his body covered in burns and his hair singed and frayed, but he looked positively giddy aside from that. He perched at the edge of the chair with his toes curling over the edge, and he scooped more of that red substance into his mouth, sucking it off his long, spidery fingers. He looked across the table expectantly at the woman who was giving him an interview.

She cleared her throat nervously and asked one final question. "So, Beyond-"

"Please, call me _B_."

"Alright. B…. After everything you've done -the murders, the gore, the horrible game you played with the famed detective L, -after all those civilians have lived in fear for the duration of your serial-killings, is there anything you regret? Anything you would have done differently?" The reporter looked curious, intrigued, nervous, and wary all at once as she awaited an answer.

Beyond had to take a moment to think, placing the empty jar of jam down and smiling thoughtfully. "I have one regret, but it has nothing to do with murder."

"Oh?"

"…I'm told that Lawli, my brother, spends much of his time barefoot. I suppose I should have taken the time to teach him how to tie his shoes. Mother never would have found the time for such a trivial thing. So, yes, I'd have liked to have done that."

"…."

"I should have taught L to tie his shoes."

…

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**/Okay, I haven't proofread this, but I think it's alright. I LOVE the idea, so I hope my readers like it too. REVIEW./**


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